A lone sailboat sailed across the vast, boundless sea.
It was night. Only the stars and moon shone in the sky, while waves slapped against the hull with a soft, rhythmic splash.
In the dark, moldy hold, a boy huddled in a corner, squeezed in among his clan.
People were piled on top of one another like cargo. Sweat and decomposing corpses fermented into a foul stench, and patches of ringworm crawled across their bodies.
Someone died every day. No one knew whether the companion beside them was already a corpse. The first few to die had been thrown overboard, but some bodies had yet to be cleared away and were rotting in the bottom of the hold.
Death, sickness, sweltering heat, fear. Those were all the boy remembered of the voyage.
He didn't know why he had to suffer like this. He'd only heard a few of the more knowledgeable members of his clan say they were being taken away to be slaves. Once they reached land, they would never return home.
At first, they had sung to drive away their fear and futilely prayed to the gods. But now, no one had the strength left to make a sound.
The boy wondered silently: If there really are gods, then make the wind and waves stronger. Keep all the ships from reaching that land, and let them become lost in these waters.
He didn't know whether the gods had heard his prayer, but in the silence came the sound of a lock turning. Starlight shone through the crack in the hatch, illuminating a hazy patch of the scene.
The one who opened the hatch wasn't a god, but a beautiful woman in a long blue dress.
The woman smiled without a word, gesturing for them to get out as